


To Those We've Lost

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: All Souls' Day, Comfort/Angst, Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Funalis, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Past Anders/Karl Thekla, Sad Anders (Dragon Age), Sad Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: "The days are long and weary, and I’m barely holding on. But you breathe in my sadness and give my soul your calm." -Angie Welland-CrosbyFunalis: The holiday is now known across Thedas as All Soul’s Day and spent in somber remembrance of the dead.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	To Those We've Lost

Funalis had come around so quickly that it never occurred to Hawke until he saw his mother return from the market in a muted black dress and carrying a basket spilling over with flowers.

“Are you sure you won’t come, sweetheart?” Leandra halted just as she shrugged into her traveling cloak and lingered by the entrance as if he would change his mind simply seeing her get ready. She was going out to the Chantry to pay her respects - to Father, to Bethany, perhaps even all of those who perished in Lothering, those who were not so lucky to get out of the Blight’s path like they had been.

He didn’t bother to feign a smile for her, to pretend like he was unaffected by their absence, at least not today. “It’s better if I don’t. I hear they don’t look too kindly on apostates and all.” The chuckle in the back of his throat felt stiff but he couldn’t seem to help old habits. 

Something in her eyes changed, and he recognized the subtle sparkle of curiosity. “You’re going to see him aren’t you?” Of course, she knew, that was a gift all mothers possessed. They knew their children better than anyone. Once it became too difficult to hide the fact that he was seeing Anders from her, his mother had subverted his expectations by simply wishing the two of them happiness. Sure, somewhere underneath all that was probably disappointment he didn't settle for one of the many wealthy, perfectly available women around Hightown just for the sake of a marriage they could benefit from. Not that he would ever blame her for it, but her reaction had been genuine.

"I’ll be fine. Just light a candle for me and I will see you later this evening."

She hesitated but only for a moment and her face softened. "Alright, but don't stay out too late."

Hawke smiled sideways at her, just enough to express trivial amusement. “Yes, mother. I’m not ten years old anymore, you know.”

Her lips lifted a little as well, a somber attempt to return the smile and they shared a small moment of joy, perhaps the only one to be found on this bleak day. “No, you’ve certainly grown up, haven’t you?” She remarked, craning her neck to take him in from head to toe, blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. Were they for pride or sorrow? Probably both. “Look at you. Your father would be so proud.”

 _Would he though?_ It was a stray worry that had buried itself in his heart the moment they fled their home, abandoning it to the spawn; and it was one that only crept out of its dark corner when he had reason to doubt his own adequacy as a son and a brother - as the head of a broken family. 

“You should go before you miss services.”

He recognized the worry lines forming on her forehead, but fortunately, she let the subject hang raw in the air and wordlessly pushed a modest cluster of flowers, of orchids and roses, into his hands. _Go to him_ , her expression said before she glided out the door. When it thudded closed, he exhaled, expunging the breath he felt like he had been holding for eons. Wyatt pitched a glance towards the fireplace where Finn rested staring into the hearth with drooping ears and a tail that hadn’t moved in hours. It seemed appropriate that even the dog knew what day it was. Mabari were very intelligent animals, and though Finn had imprinted on him over everyone else in the family, he still quietly mourned the same losses.

Dressed down in only a clean tunic and traveling leathers, he called out to the others before ducking into the study. “I’m headed out Bodahn, don’t wait up for me!” The dwarf bellowed something in return but Wyatt was out the cellar door before either he or Orana could protest.

It had only really sunk in that the estate’s lower level exited out in Darktown right in front of Anders’ clinic once he had started vying for the healer’s affections in earnest. The irony in that convenience certainly wasn’t lost on him. Today especially. The shortcut selfishly allowed him to avoid the rest of Darktown and the sight of his own fellow refugees huddled together in poorly lit corners with their sorrowful faces and despondent pleas for help. If he could somehow change the fortune of every last one of his countrymen left to the dregs of this city, Hawke knew he would do it in a heartbeat but for now, he dared not face the downtrodden with apathy in his heart. They deserved nothing less than his full efforts and they would not get them on this day.

As Wyatt came face to face with the clinic’s double doors, firmly shut and the lanterns dark, he felt his stomach turn over on itself and his heart sink. A hardly welcoming invitation if there ever was one.

His hand hovered in mid-air just as the door in front of him creaked open, interrupting his internal processing. Anders, startled to see him standing there, blinked away his surprise with wide eyes that glinted gold in the low light. “Hawke! What are you doing?”

“I came to see you,” he said, presenting the humble bouquet.

Anders studied them with ambivalence, only accepting them after some deliberation. “You brought me flowers?”

“Was that not appropriate? I figured what with today and all...” Pulse racing now, Wyatt felt the heat rise into his cheeks and avoided the urge to snatch them back. “Funalis? I guess I just assumed-” he prompted when Anders gazed back with a vacant expression.

“Oh. Right. I must have forgotten that it was today. Sorry, Hawke. Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.”

The heavy shadows under his eyes, smudges of ink across his face, and the cloying scent of chokedamp radiating off of his clothes all revealed a different story. “If you’re busy I can come back later?”

His smile was weak at best, a falsehood to mask whatever he was really feeling. Wyatt knew that face well. After all, was he not a master of the art himself? “I was going to gather some more elfroot, but it can wait.” Anders let the door hang open, beckoning him inside without directly saying it but he still stepped lightly. 

_Was he intruding? Would it be better if he left and came back tomorrow?_

Trepidation stayed his hand when Wyatt thought to reach for Anders and sweep him up into an embrace so that they might find solace in one another over their respective losses. He might have been surprised to find not a man in mourning but a man thoroughly invested in anything he could find to _avoid_ mourning.

“I suppose I should have realized why I wasn’t getting very many patients today.” 

Without venturing too far into the clinic, Hawke gestured to the still-open door as an attempt to goad anything more out of Anders beyond short sentences. “Well if you want I could go with you? Frankly, I could use the distraction.”

"Actually, I really have a lot of work-"

"Anders, are you _sure_ you're alright?"

A knot formed between sandy brows drawing small clusters of freckles together. Wyatt saw the way his jaw clenched just before replying and braced himself for the retort he knew was coming. "I don't know what you want from me, love. I'm fine but I really am busy."

Anders was as frustrating as he was beautiful, even in the dim, dingy lighting of the undercity. Long fingers picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his coat as he turned his back and made haste for his desk. Wyatt had seen this routine at least a dozen times, idly straightening pages of parchment, mindlessly organizing his potion bottles, it was nothing new.

“It’s okay to still grieve you know.” No response followed, so he crossed the room, following Anders. “Look, I know it’s been a few years but that hurt doesn’t just go away. Trust me, I know from experience.” He reached for Anders, laying a hand on his shoulder in an action that was meant to be reassuring, but the man’s bitter scowl was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, a shock to the system that made him recoil. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”

“No. It’s fine. You’re just trying to be kind.”

Trying. Right. He was _trying_ to be kind but failing spectacularly. Hawke could read between the lines, he knew exactly what Anders was implying. For every passing moment that they stood there exchanging no words or even a glance while roaring silence filled every inch of the empty clinic, he felt his chest constrict tighter. 

“I’ll give you some space.” At some point, he finally convinced his body to obey, to release the tension from his rigid posture, and allow him to move. Against his better judgment, he turned to leave, swallowing the hard lump in his throat.

Before he could get far, a hand seized his arm. “No wait-" 

And wait he did. Wyatt stopped in his tracks and looked back for confirmation that he was indeed wanted.

“I’m sorry. Please stay.” 

Who was he to deny that plea, spoken in a voice thick with the hints of grief Anders had obviously tried to hold at bay? The words pulled at his heart but the sincerity in those warm eyes was what broke the dam of emotions. “Listen,” Hawke mumbled with a much softer voice, cradling Anders’s face in his palms now. “I don’t claim to know anything about Karl, but anyone _you_ would risk your safety to storm the Chantry for must have been a damned good man and I know I could never replace him.” 

Anders managed the smallest of smiles as he closed his hands around Wyatt’s, pulling them away. “You are already so much more than I ever dared dream of and the thought of losing you terrifies me.” “Don’t say things like that.” Freeing his hands, Hawke wrapped both arms around Anders and buried his face in the man’s disheveled blonde hair. “I’ve told you before, you’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

A sigh drifted up from the figure pressed against his chest. “You can’t know that for sure, not with how much notoriety you’re gaining around the city. I’ve seen the way the Templars in Hightown watch you.”

To dismiss Anders’ concerns would be to play ignorant to the truth. They were watching him closely, likely waiting for him to make one false move so they could converge and take him to task. Perhaps even try to force him into the Circle, not that he would ever go without a damned good fight. There was nothing he could say to confidently reassure either Anders or himself right now, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Much as he didn’t want to break this moment of peace, he reluctantly pulled back but slipped his hand in one of Anders’. “Come on,” Wyatt coaxed, expecting some minor resistance. 

“You’re not serious about going to gather elfroot with me?” Easy laughter bubbled up from his chest for the first time in hours and Hawke threw an arm around his lover’s shoulders. “Maker _no_ , but we _are_ going up to my place and you’re getting pampered. I won’t have any objections.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Anders scoffed in protest, though he made no attempts to flee.

Mother hadn’t returned from services yet by the time he made it to the manor with Anders in tow. So all was quiet when they emerged from the cellar into the study and made their way upstairs to Wyatt’s bedroom. By the time he began running the bath, Anders needed no real convincing to shed layers and actually submerge himself into the water, effectively warmed by way of magic. Hawke quietly propped himself against the tub’s edge watching his partner wash at a leisurely pace, neither of them in a hurry to think about anything else. Without prompting, he liberated the scrubbing brush from Anders to assist him, rubbing it in gentle circles against his back.

After a while, Anders finally broke the silence. “You’re so focused on me, love, but I never asked how you were doing. I’m sorry…”

Wyatt didn’t answer right away, but he stopped scrubbing and leaned in to embrace Anders from behind. “No, it’s alright,” he said finally. “I just - I sometimes expect to walk in the door and see my sister come running up to me, or hear my father’s laughter as he‘s telling the same old stories over again. Even though they’ve never been to Kirkwall, the manor doesn’t feel right without them. And I know Carver is alive but I can’t help but think - he might as well _not_ be. Is that wrong? Is it terrible for me to think?”

"No. I understand." Sitting up, Anders gave his arms a squeeze and trailed light kisses across his skin. “Tell me about them. What were they like?”

“Bethany and my father?” He pondered the question for a minute. _How could he encapsulate everything that made them so wonderful to someone who never knew them?_ “Bethy was such a ray of sunshine, hardly anything could darken her spirit, but don’t get me wrong - she was still a Hawke and still Carver’s twin. The two of them couldn’t have been more different but when they ganged up together, _Maker_ it was terrifying.” The fond memories of childhood brought a chuckle to his lips. “You would have liked them, I think. Father especially. Sometimes you remind me of him, actually.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned by that comparison-”

“No no, I mean, he was just a good man with a lot of passion. For magic, for his family, for helping others. I see a lot of that - all of that - in you.” That answer seemed to satisfy, Wyatt realized, hearing a quiet “oh” in reply. “I used to think he was just a joker, never taking anything seriously and never giving you a straight answer, but when I’m with you I remember that he was actually quite admirable. Though we didn’t have very much back in Ferelden, he always tried to give back to the community somehow, and always put his family first.”

In the absence of words, a melancholy hush settled between them like a heavy wool blanket. It should have been a comfort but it rubbed all the wrong ways.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Anders sighed, releasing a long rattled breath that grew stronger by the end. “Karl was always the better of us, smart, studious - he always took everything so seriously. I used to give him a hard time about that, but I really did look up to him. Even if I was terrible at showing it…"

"He didn't deserve what happened to him." It was a hollow platitude, Hawke knew that and perhaps all like it were just as empty. It wasn’t like he didn't mean it, but much could be said about the words 'I'm sorry'. Didn't matter how hard you meant them, it didn't really fix anything. Not in circumstances like these, but they were the norm. Expected even, like some unspoken rule of life.

"No. Nobody does. And I won't stop fighting until it no longer happens. To anyone." The conviction in Anders's voice was not to be doubted and Wyatt believed in his declaration wholeheartedly.

"Good." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Anders sunk a little lower in the tub, seemingly just enjoying the warm water. "Is it alright if I stay here tonight. With you?"

"I'd like that. A lot actually. Was worried you wouldn't feel comfortable if I asked but I'm glad you did."

"Good."

They both stopped talking again, not feeling the need to keep filling the air with idle chatter or any sound but that of their own breathing.


End file.
